


Tonight let's celebrate not being married

by mssdare



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 (my entries) [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: summerpornathon, M/M, Pornathon, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Arthur's wedding night Merlin needs some consolation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight let's celebrate not being married

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for challenge 1 of Summer Pornathon 2014 "Sexpistolary" ("Texts from last night").  
> Chosen text: (318): tonight lets celebrate not being married.
> 
> Many thanks to Sillygoose for the beta-work!

**(318): tonight lets celebrate not being married**

 

“Long live the Queen!” Merlin chokes on the words a little, swallows. “Long live the Queen,” he shouts along with the others, but the odd lump in his throat won’t budge. Traitorous tears push through despite his best efforts.

 _People will think they’re happy tears_ , he hopes. And he is happy: happy for Gwen, glowing in her crown. Happy for Arthur, too, for finding love, and maybe even peace. He is definitely _not_ crying for himself, for what he’s lost wasn’t his to lose in the first place.

He slips from the main hall, where the celebrations are slowly winding down, and wanders toward the eastern rampart. Camelot looks best from here, he thinks, where the icy stars shine in the black sky. He tells himself he’s facing the dawn, even though the sunrise is hours away. Merlin won’t allow himself to think about the married couple ensconced in their chambers, nor how daybreak will find them.

The stones are hard and cold under his elbows when he leans heavily on the wall. His tankard of wine is half-empty next to him, abandoned. He’s not sure he’d be able to swallow now anyway.

“Don’t think he doesn’t care about you,” Gwaine says, startling Merlin. He sits down next to Merlin on the wall and takes a gulp from the jug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?”

“Camelot needs a queen. Princess may be a first class arsehole, but he’d never take advantage of you in this way. He’d never make you his—“

“No, he wouldn’t.” Merlin nods, not pretending that he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He takes a long breath, wishing the choking sensation would leave him.

“It suits you,” Gwaine says.

Gwaine’s hand is on his robes, fingers playing idly with the fabric near Merlin’s throat. He’s a hairsbreadth away from touching Merlin’s skin. There’s something about the gesture that makes Merlin feel… _better_.

“I need to give it back tomorrow,” he says of the borrowed raiment.

Gwaine’s palm moves to cup Merlin’s head gently. Merlin can feel the warmth of his body, can smell the sweet wine on Gwaine’s breath.

He lets his gaze lock with Gwaine’s. He nods, a light movement, barely there.

“Let them have their night,” Gwaine says, caressing Merlin’s neck with his fingers. “Tonight let’s celebrate not being married.”

When he kisses Merlin it’s hard and urgent. His beard scratches Merlin’s skin. _This is good_ , Merlin thinks as he tangles his own fingers in Gwaine’s hair, tugging hard.

Gwaine smiles against the kiss and pulls on Merlin in return, baring Merlin’s throat so he can bite it lightly.

***

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Gwaine asks.

“Of course.” Merlin huffs breathlessly, because Gwaine’s oil-slicked fingers are knuckles-deep inside him, and maybe Gwaine should’ve asked before instead of after they’d stumbled onto Merlin’s cot, naked and impatient. He gasps when Gwaine pulls his fingers out, holds Merlin’s thighs open, and pushes his cock inside Merlin’s stretched arse, hard. “M’not a hermit.”

And then it doesn’t matter that Gwaine’s eyes are the wrong colour, that his hair is long and curly, that his voice is different than the one Merlin wants to hear, and the smell is all wrong. What matters is the beautiful stretch inside of Merlin, this feeling of his magic building up, leaking out of his body like a golden mist, clearing space for breath so he can finally inhale freely. And if a broken moan escapes him on an exhale, at least it clears the lump away.

What matters is that he feels better. Maybe not best, but _better_ , and he’ll take it.

As they lie there later, entangled and spent, the magic that had flared up before settles down inside him. He feels Gwaine’s seed slowly trickling out, and his own come drying on his stomach.

Gwaine entwines his fingers with Merlin’s, pulling him closer, and Merlin lets him.

***

“I won't tell,” Gwaine says in the morning, tying up the laces of his breeches.

“I don't mind,” Merlin mutters. It’s not like anyone would be shocked. Gwaine has a reputation, after all.

“No.” Gwaine shakes his head, pulling on his shoes. “Not this. I won't tell about the magic. I'll take your secret to the grave if I have to.”

He kisses Merlin on the cheek and is gone.


End file.
